Vixen 03 by Clive Cussler

by the hired help that aren’t included in the agency’s fiscal budget.”
    Steiger’s eyebrows rose with sudden realization. “Are you saying that you had Giordino take a government aircraft at government expense halfway across the country without authorization, not to mention a stolen cargo of equipment?”
    “Something like that, yes.”
    “We’re really quite good at it,” Giordino said, deadpan.
    “Saves enormous time,” said Pitt unconcernedly. “Bureaucratic red tape can be such a bore.”
    “This is incredible,” said Steiger softly. “I’ll probably be court-martialed as an accomplice.”
    “Not if we get away with it,” Pitt said. “Now then, if you two will untie the cargo, I’ll back the Jeep up to the airplane.” With that he walked toward the parking lot.
    Steiger watched him for a moment and then turned to Giordino. “Have you known him long?”
    “Since the first grade. I was the class bully. When Dirk moved into the neighborhood and showed up for his first day at school, I worked him over pretty good.”
    “You showed him who was boss?”
    “Not exactly.” Giordino reached up and opened the cargo door. “After I bloodied his nose and blackened one eye, he got up off the ground and kicked me in the crotch. I walked lopsided for a week.”
    “You make him sound devious.”
    “Let’s just say that Pitt has a ton of balls, the brains to go with them,
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    and an uncanny knack for knocking the shit out of any obstacle, man made or otherwise, that gets in his way. He is a soft touch for.kids and animals, and helps little old ladies up escalators. To my knowledge, he’s never stolen a dime in his life nor used his sly talents for personal gain. Beyond all that, he’s one helluva guy.”
    “Do you think he might have gone too far this time?”
    “You mean his stock in a nonexistent aircraft?”
    Steiger nodded.
    “If Pitt tells you there’s a Santa Claus, hang your stocking on the mantel, because you better believe it.”
    Pitt crouched on his knees in an aluminum rowboat and fine-tuned the TV monitor. Steiger sat toward the bow and struggled with the oars. Giordino was in another boat, about twenty feet forward, nearly hidden behind a pile of battery-powered transmitters. As he rowed, he kept a wary eye on the cable that crept over the stern and disappeared into the water. At the other end was a TV camera enclosed in a watertight case.
    “Wake me when a good horror movie comes on,” Giordino said, yawning, across the water.
    “Keep rowing,” Steiger grunted. “I’m beginning to gain on you.”
    Pitt did not join in the idle banter. His concentration was focused on the screen. A frigid afternoon breeze rolled down the mountain slopes and turned the glassy surface of the lake into a mild chop, making it difficult for Giordino’s and Steiger’s aching arms to keep the two boats on an even course.
    Since early morning the only objects that had strayed past the monitor were scattered mounds of rocks embedded in the muddy bottom, rotting remains of long-dead trees whose leafless branches seemed to clutch at the passing camera, and a few startled rainbow trout who gave the intruding camera a respectable berth.
    “Wouldn’t it have been easier to conduct a search with scuba equipment?” Steiger said, cutting into Pitt’s fixed scrutiny.
    Pitt rubbed his strained eyes with the palms of his hands. “TV is far more efficient. Also, the lake is two hundred feet deep in spots. A diver’s bottom time at that depth is measured in mere minutes. Add to that the
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    fact that fifty feet beneath the surface the water turns almost to freezing and you have one damned uncomfortable situation. A man would be lucky if his body could withstand the cold more than ten minutes.”
    “And if we find something?”
    “Then I’ll put on a wet suit and go over the side for a look-see, but not one second before.”
    Something materialized on the monitor and Pitt leaned forward